Showing posts with label astrology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label astrology. Show all posts

Monday, January 17

69 Lessons

 

 

octopus-lessons httpwww.nataliedee.com012207octopus-lessons.jpg

The past year  taught me a lot of lessons in living, loving, learning and the whole shitload of everything that we call the human condition.   I can’t say that I became wiser. I consider myself as a decently smart individual,  however, I have my blond moments.  {* These days I’ve been getting them a lot. }.   Yes, I would not say that I am wiser now… Maybe a bit smarter than before.  Wiser, well I honestly don’t know.  

Ah yes, the 69 things I learned so far in the past year.

1.  I learned that  having a second had fridge  that I bought in some Japanese surplus shop so that I can have cold water in the morning is a bit extravagant, considering that I live in a box.

2.  I learned that buying second hand / cheap products doesn’t mean it’s cheap in the long run .  Wait till you get your electric bill.

3.  I learned that  an unused second hand fridge makes a real good storage cabinet for books, sugar,  and shitloads of cosmetics and beauty products.  

4. I learned that you need to act stupid sometimes in order to get your point across.  

5. I learned that it’s good to let others see your blonde side {and let them revel in it} so that you can UNLEASH the raging brunette later.  

6. I learned that money is really important in all facets of relationships.

7.  I learned that money isn’t everything.

8.  I learned that it’s easy to find a job but it’s shit difficult to establish a career.

9. I learned that there comes a point in your life where you need to choose between establishing a career or establishing a relationship.

10.  I learned that what I do in life is always about choices.  That the choice  I make may not necessarily produce my desired result in the end but I still make the choice because the intent is there. 

11.  I learned that there are times that things may not come out as planned.

12.  I learned that it is always good to have a Plan B.

13.  I learned that you start praying to the Universe/Jesus/God/Allah/Buddha/Mary/Paul/Ringo/Krishna/Shiva/Patrick/Tom when your Plan C fails.

14. I learned that it’s always good to have a day job.  

15. I learned that it isn’t enough to just have a day job in this economy.

16. I learned that the taxes I pay can pay for two maids in some places.  

17. I learned that I pay way too much taxes in this country.

18. I learned {a looooooooong time ago} that none of the taxes I pay go to public spending.

19. I learned that democracy is a very loose word…

20. … and so is Socialism.

23. I learned that Obama is not Jesus.

24. I learned that Noynoy can never be an Obama.

25. I learned that Manny Paquiao makes a Gazillion dollars in boxing.

26. I learned that I can never be a boxer.

27. I learned that Filipinos in general are really good singers.

28. I learned that I can never be a singer.

29. I learned that I really need to quit smoking.

30. I learned that buying an electronic cigarette does not mean I quit smoking already.

31.  I learned that I can eat 8 cups of rice in one seating.

32.  I also learned that eating 8 cups of rice ain’t good for my tummy. 

33. I learned that my maximum is 3 cups of rice.

34. I learned that I can get really fat in a span of 4 weeks.

35. I {re}learned that beauty is a philosophy,  a state of mind.

36. I learned that a person can be here on a Tuesday evening and be gone by Wednesday morning.

37. I learned the importance of telling the person of his/her worth. 

38. I learned that talent is discovered, but genius is reared and cultivated.

39. I learned that consistency is the key to everything.

40. I learned that family is cool.

41. I learned that you really don’t have to believe in Christmas as long as you believe in free food.

42. I learned that friends who fly thousands of miles just so that they could spend a night in my box apartment on my straw mat are the kewlest people in my book.   {Thanks guys}

43. I learned that 32 is just a number….

43.  I also learned that 32 is still 32.

44. I learned that people would do anything to get a job in this economy.

45. I learned how to say no to these people.

46. I learned that a lot of Filipinos are so fixated with American English. 

47. I learned that there is really no difference between toilet paper and paper napkins.  

48. I learned on how I could save on toilet paper and paper napkins.

49. I learned that I was living a really good life in China. 

50. I learned that sulking in one corner and thinking about the human condition {at least my condition} will do me no good except to magnify it.

51. I learned to smile on occasion.

52. I learned that it’s ok to be happy even when you’re life is really shitty at times.

53. I learned that love is sometimes a hard pill to swallow.

54. I that staying quiet doesn’t mean I  have acquiesced. it meant that I’ve understood.

55. I learned that I am indeed an Urban Sinner.

56. I learned that despite of this, I still love you.

57. I learned to believe in myself and myself alone.

58. I learned not to trust people who are cops, lawyers, doctors, business people, presidents, preachers, priests, nuns, motivational speakers, yadi yadi… because they swindle me everyday.

59. I learned that even 80 year-old cab drivers can still swindle me of my money when they get the chance.

60. I learned that it doesn’t matter whether I own a Blackberry or an Android or an iPhone because what really matters is how I use it  and why I bought it in the first place.

61. I learned that Google Sync is really a cool app. 

62. I learned that my ‘wow factor’ is only a day  when it comes to smart phones.

63. I learned that the best way to communicate is a face to face conversation.

61. I learned how to clean up my own mess.

63. I learned that it isn’t all about sex.

64. I learned that sex is great! But cuddling is better.

65. I learned that sleeping with the one you love {as in actual sleeping} when yer really knackered to the bone is way better than masturbating yourself to sleep.

66. I learned that I need to masturbate my mind more. 

67. I learned that it is important to be happy.

68. I learned that at the end of the day, I alone will experience my death.

69. I learned that there is a God/Universe within me.  

Monday, September 21

My Weekend... Bow

As promised, I'll be telling you guys what happened with my weekend.  See here, my two friends from high school, Betty and Wilma (their real names), kinda coaxed me to watch the new Vilma Santos flick, "In My Life" because they thought that I could prolly relate to the movie. The story is about a Filipina mother who decides to go to New York to live with her Filipino gay son who is currently dating a Filipino gay illegal immigrant and how the three yadi yadi and life yadi yada and the tribulations of illegal immigrants in the US yadi yada yadi plus the issues of parenting and gayness yadi yada yadi yada true love in time of prostate cancer yadi yada. The movie sucked ass (and not in a good way mind you). It wasn't that I was hoping for a full frontal nudity from both of the actors or even from Vilma Santos (although a full frontal from Vilma woulda been nice), but the movie was just too commercial that it didn't even pretend to be a proper film.  Don't get me wrong,  I'm okay with gay themed films, I'm gay after all.  I'm just way too tired of films purporting to be gay because of the following reasons:
  1. that there are gay characters in the movie.
  2. that these gay characters would either be a gogo boy, a hustler, a drug addict, a psycho or a priest.
  3. that these gay characters would have a full frontal in the movie or...
  4. that these gay characters would suck faces in the movie like "normal" people would suck faces
  5. that these one or two or all the gay characters would die at the end of the film
  6. that these gay characters are not really gay but they're doing it because a gay role does boost ones market value in the business
OK. Just to get things straight (nyahahaha), I don't mind the nudity.  I'm comfortable with nudity.  But it seems that there is a current trend in Philippine Independent Cinema that an indie gay film would always involve nudity in all scenes.  I've seen some films wherein I was absolutely sure that the frontal nudity, oral and anal sex was used because they didn't have any idea what to do with the scene.  Like, OK, there's still more film before that gogo dancer character OD's and dies, so why don't we have a blowjob scene between the breakfast table scene and the dinner table scene and an anal sex scene between the morning that he wakes up scene and the night that he realizes that he was the son of his regular John scene? There we have it! Voila! Gay film 101.  I'm not being a hypocrite.  I like those scenes alright, but they have just become waaaaay too trite for my taste.  ITS ALL OVER GAY INDEPENDENT CINEMA?!?!?! CAN'T WE THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE? I'm sure you guys can Google something up.  The funny thing is, we {me included} know that this movie is gonna suck but we still wanna watch it because this up and coming model something something is showing his dick or getting blown by someone. Let's lay low on the dick show a little and focus more on developing the plot.  Some of these films that I've seen are even story worthy but the problem is its way too underdeveloped. I mean dudes, if yer just gonna fill up a scene with dicks and asses then I've already got  BADPUPPY and SEANCODY and BILATINMEN and BROKESTRAIGHTBOYS and BAITBUS {OK I'M WRITING WAAAAY TOO MANY PORN SITES NOW} for that.


"In My Life" sucked ass for two reasons:
  
One, the title sucked.  I think the executives just thought of a title that their singer baby could sing in the whooooooole goddamned movie.  The soundtrack sucked.  It was all midi.  An independent film could've done better in the soundtrack department.  Two, the plot was trite and waaaay too predictable.  It's like, haven't I've watched this before in the Hallmark Channel?  I paid 160 pesos for this? To see John Lloyd and Lucky Me brush lips for .5 nanoseconds?  OK I didn't pay, Wilma did. I did like the way Vilma Santos acted.  I love it when she acts her age for a change.  Although there was a lotta shouting which gave me a headache.  


Here's a thought.  Why can't we make Filipino gay films...
  • wherein there are no gay characters in the movie?  {is it even possible.  YES, I think it is. Eversince Moulin Rouge, I think anything is possible}
  • wherein nobody would die of AIDS, cancer, accident, natural calamity or sheer boredom
  • wherein the characters are actual people NOT commercial model beef cakes
  • wherein the characters are actually gay? 
  • wherein the plot is not copied from another gay film?
  • wherein the title didn't come from a song?
Honestly my gay brothers and sisters in the film industry, we could really do much better.  Say that Maximo Oliveros movie about the blossoming of a 12 year old gay kid growing up in the slums of Manila, I liked it.  Sure somebody died in the end but it had all the right elements.  It had the right mix of comedy and drama and struggle.  AND THERE WASN'T ANY SHOUTING OR NUDITY INVOLVED.  


Nuff of that already.


The highlight of the night was not the movie.  Actually there was two.  


First was the chicken that I ate in Don Henrico's. It was AWE-SUUUUUUUM. If you ever eat at Don Henrico's in Manila look for the Captain Crunch Something something Chicken. I think I ate about 10 or something.  Yum.


Second was because of what happened after the movie.  See, my friend Betty loves and jizzes over John Lloyd Cruz although I don't know why but she just adores him.  He's not a bad actor by the way.  Anyways, I was telling her throughout the entire film that John Lloyd looked like one of our classmates back in high school, Paul {not his real name}.  You see, Paul here, is supposedly a closet case.  Now I don't care if somebody's a closet case because I was once in there myself.  Whatever floats yer boat, I always say. It's your business to be in the closet because maybe you have an ample amount of closet space or maybe you're closet value has gone up two points and it's worth a timeshare.  Good for you!  But it infuriates me when some people in the closet mind OTHER PEOPLE'S CLOSETS {straight or gay}. You see, Paul has an attitude.  He likes to OUT people who are not in the room. Like one of my good friends in high school who got pregnant early. She's an intelligent and independent woman who just happened to get pregnant before she got hitched.  We had sort of a highschool reunion in one of our classmate's house 5 years after our graduation.  During that get together, he started talking about her being pregnant and all like it was something vile and to be despised at. He was talking as if he was standing on top of Mt. Fuji or something. Then there was another recent incident wherein he said to a group of our former classmates that another former classmate in high school is gay. The person in question was not in the room {of course}. He delivered the "news" in such a way to illicit a booming reaction from our male highschool friends who reacted like this:


"LIKE WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MC SCRUNGY IS GAY?!?!?! WOHOHOHOHO. WHODATHUNK DUDE?!?!"


then they went on drinking their beers and pissing in the wind and shit.  


I'm glad I wasn't there at that time or I could've said an expletive or two {maybe three}.


OK.  So it appears that I don't like Paul.  OK I don't like him.  Well so does Betty and Wilma.  So while we were watching the suckfest movie that was IN MY FRIGGEN LIFE, I kept commenting to Betty how John Lloyd looked like Paul and like a true John Lloyd fan, she kept defending his honor.  So yeah, the banter went on the entire movie until the movie finally FINALLY ENDED WITH SARAH GERONIMO SINGING IN MY FRIGGEN LIFE! Credits.  Lights on.  AND LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD WHO DO I SEE ON OUR SAME ROW ACROSS THE OTHER AISLE!?!?!??!?!?!?


ASHTON FUCKING KUTCHER!
ANDERSON FUCKING COOPER!
WALTER FUCKING CRONKITE OH HE'S DEAD
KANYE FUCKING WEST WHO CARES!
BARBARA FUCKING WALTERS YESSS BUT NOT REALLY!


Paul! 
Fucking Paul. 
And not only fucking Paul! 
Fucking Paul with a fucking guy!
THE UNIVERSE RULES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Little old humble me was not only flabbergasted but in times like these when the Universe decides to reveal one of her little secrets to lowly persons like me, what does one do?


I PANICKED GODDAMNIT!


Here's what I said on verbatim


"Paul?
..... Paul?????.....
PAUUL!!!!!!"


Mind you, I did all this with my right pointy finger pointed at him.  I think I pointed at him three times like with every name there was a point. 


 "Paul? (point).... 
Paul???? (point) 
PAUUL!!!!!! (point point) 


OK. It was four.


I should've called him Blanche at that time because he was as pale as a mayonnaise when he saw not one, not two, but three of his former high school classmates watching the same  gay film that sucked ass, in the same movie theater, and seated in the same row with him and his "companion". Now Betty and Wilma were a bit slow on the uptake and thought I was still joking. But when they looked at the direction where I was looking they were both......


gleeful.  


If you would've seen the look on their faces it was like they were in  a MasterCard commercial. 


Whereas I, was in total panic.  You see, I was still so overwhelmed that the Universe had decided to bless me with glad tidings on that night that I didn't know what to do!  I hate this about myself.  Fuck I screwed it up. Well, said Wilma and Betty.  I think I did really.  Wilma was about to throw Paul the bone laced with cyanide while Betty was about to cheer her on {they were both friends of the preggy girl that Paul decided to broadcast to our friends years back} when I kept talking and talking and talking.  Honestly I wanted to laugh like laugh that sinister laugh that would ring throughout the walls of that cinema so I could vindicate all of Paul's victims of his Kanyeistic acts back in high school and after but I couldn't because I might die of so much rapture and bliss and as much as I would have wanted to, I couldn't because I still had to write my Great American Novel which is about a Gogo Boy from the Bronx who decides to leave his night job to help poor people in some Third World Country so he could find meaning in his life and thus end up finding the love of his life who happened to be his father in two previous lives. (How do you like them apples?!?!? Huh huh!)  So I kept talking and babbling just so I wouldn't laugh.   


Fuck me hard till Tuesday.   
I screwed it.  
I still hate myself for screwing it. 


Wilma and Betty made that known to me a number of times during the night and they decided to play a practical joke on me by changing one of my contact names on my cell {I think it was Wima's} to Paul's name.  I still hate them for doing that.  


Still, I had fun that night.  See, the funnest part was after Wilma and I got out of the cinema.  We were waiting for Betty who was in the ladies room because of the impending flood that was about to come gushing out between her legs.  As we were waiting outside, Paul and his companion were coming out {no pun intended}.  See, Paul took his sweet time to leave the cinema thinking that the three of us have already left.  What he didn't know was that Betty drank a whole gallon of iced tea at Don Henrico's and she just held the floodgates during the movie because of John Lloyd fucking Cruz.  So Paul and his companion were there.  He definitely saw Wilma and me. Well I waved to make sure that he saw us.  In a panic, Paul and his companion didn't know whether to turn left or right thus they ended up bumping each other then turning right before giving the two of us a quick wave goodbye. 


So that was my night with my two highschool friends, and with the highschool classmate that we didn't like and with the Universe telling us that life is really worth living sometimes.   And by the way, Paul doesn't in any way look like John Lloyd Cruz.




Saturday, March 21

Fridays and Mondays

I hate Mondays.  Okay, that's too much of a word, 'hate'. Let me rephrase that, I dislike Mondays.  Not that I find anything distasteful in Mondays or anything, in fact Mondays for most people in this world are okay-ish if not near awesomess.  A good number of the world's population would love waking up on Mondays {like for most people who work in banks}. Some people are even perky on Mondays.  I have a coworker who is a perky Monday person {then again, she is perky in all days... I wonder what drug she's taking?}.  I dislike Mondays.  Most of all, I dislike MONDAYS that fall on the 13th day of the month.  Monday the 13th are the worst Mondays of them all.  It's like the whole universe is conspiring against me on Monday the 13th.  The stars and the planets are all in a mysterious astrological alignment that any form of physical or mental or emotional endeavor would surely come to complete failure. Pursuing any form of endeavor on such a day {and I have proven this} would simply be begging the cosmos to smite me from behind with so much wrath that lubrication is a no option. I don't go out on Monday the 13th.  I stay indoors.  I don't clean my floor on Monday the 13th.  I let the dust settle as much as I hate it.  I don't cook on Monday the 13th. Well, I don't cook period.  Lets just say that I'm kosher on Monday the 13th. 

Mondays don't do anything for me. Mondays are just bleh.  I guess its just in my constitution, like I was built to not function well on Mondays.  I'm just not a Monday person.  Even the word 'Monday' is a bit off.  There's just something wrong with the word 'Monday'.  It's the word I think. I mean it's the beginning of the work week and the people who invented the modern calendar weren't even creative enough to think of a better word to start the friggen week.  I don't really care about the etymology of the friggen word but dudes, if you were gonna invent a calendar and pick a name for the beginning of the work week why the hell pick a boring name. The word 'Monday' doesn't have a lotta panache, I think.  'Wednesday' has more spunk even.  In fact, they should've put 'Wednesday' at the beginning of the work week and put friggen 'Monday' on the third day.  If that were the case {in a perfect world where there are no recessions and bills to pay and AIDS and cancer and hunger and wars and political commentaries and no tv commercials}, I think I would wake up every beginning of the work week with so much positivity and energy if it happened to be named 'Wednesday'. I honestly think that I would be a perky Wednesday-beginning-of-the-work-week person.  I'd wake up with a smile on my face while I'm scratching my left nut.  Then I'd be doing a thousand sit ups.  Then I'd do yoga.  Then I'd be singing songs in the shower.  Hell I'd prolly even eat breakfast.  Imagine this my friend,  if the week started on a Wednesday.  You might be doing the same thing. We would all be perky and happy and twiddledee twiddle dum cheery humming a Buddy Holly song while we go to work thinking that our work life isn't much of a grind after all.  All because we woke up on a WEDNESDAY. I honestly think that we could even be one step closer to world peace if the week started on a Wednesday. Damnit,  I'd even wear a pin if the week started on a Wednesday. 

Why the hell am I talking about Mondays on a FRIDAY night?!?!

Well, I do not know if it is age or if its because of my spiked up MSG levels but lately I have been feeling that Fridays are just like Mondays. I got two invites today, one for a post birthday party leftover dinner thing and one for a lets get pissed drunk and paint the town jizz red thing.  I both turned it down.  Three reasons.  One, I'm dead tired. Two, I'm kinda broke. Three, it feels like a Monday.
 
My inner Omar is telling me that its a combination of my advancing years and MSG intake.  I just can't party like I used to.  I really don't party that much to begin with.  I'm very domesticated yo {*wipes the counter top table and fixes his apron}. But really, I don't party that much to begin with.  But I do go out and get pissed drunk.

Note to self.
1. Moisturize
2. Eat less instant noodles

Being truthful now, there are times when the I find myself thinking on a Sunday evening that the highlight of my week was getting 8 hours of sleep.  I mean, how lame is that?

It dawned on me that I needed to be more productive.  Not with work but with my personal time.  It also dawned on me that I really don't have much that personal time. My only personal time is when I am out running and/or when I am in the gym.  I could hardly call that personal.  I think I need to do things.  Like actually get outta my apartment and do something, like go to museums or take crappy pictures or write crappy stuff or make up stories in my head or eat ice cream in the park or poison pigeons in the park. ANYTHING, just do something for myself.  I NEED TIME DAMNIT. 

It is so true though, the saying that time is a luxury these days.  In many cases you need a credit card to have some personal quality time. { I don't have a credit card. My debit card doesn't even have a hundred dollars in it }.  In this time and age, there is so little time which you could honestly call FREE.  I think people who are incarcerated have more free time and quality time for that matter. 

It's a fact in my life now, that my Fridays are just like my Mondays and I have to live with it. Sad but true. My only consolation in this realization is that at least the fifth day of the week is not called a 'Monday'.  Gawd, imagine if there were two days in the week named MONDAYS.  Monday the first and Monday the fifth.  I think I would slit my wrists.

nuff said.

Thursday, September 18

What to do when the world economy is on the brink of a major super duper recession?

1. Vote right.  Hell yeah.  For those of you citizens of the world who are about to have a major election, try to choose the right candidate.  VOTE PARIS!   Vote for the candidate that focuses on issues - MAJOR ISSUES (like should citizens have more grocery coupons and shit). Remember, the world is a neighborhood.  Your choice affects the Circle of Life. Like they say, "One home's trash, is another home's, well...  trash too).

2. Get a piggy bank for chrisssake.  I'm serious.  The world needs more piggy banks.  Why? If all the ordinary people know how to save,  then we can probably buy out them multi nationals and transnationals and banks and megalomaniacs with our piggy bank savings! Like we'd smash them piggy banks on their corporate heads and make them count the pennies! That would be so hot. And besides, more piggy banks would create more jobs and shit (betcha didn't think of that huh).  But then again they'd outsource it to China, so meh.

3. Donate to charity. Help people who need help.  Charities need your help too, especially in a recession.  Like dude, have you ever heard of the PASS IT ON philosophy?  If not, google it.  I can't explain it 'coz I'm too lazy and hands hurt (don't ask).  So yeah, donate to a charity or a foundation.  Like, my foundation for example - Help Omar Go to Thailand so He can get a Butt Lift Foundation.  I accept paypal donations too.  Mack me if yer interested. :)

4. Buy a bike.  Low maintenance and no crude needed.  And besides, its good for yer prostate.

5. Write to your congressman.  Ask him/her wtf is he doing with the money that you pay'em to make yer shitty life a little less shitier.

6. Have a garage sale.  For real.  People like trash.  Sell anything, yer tv.  yer phone.  yer soiled underpants. yer class ring. yer pubes.  yer dog. anything goes.  The world is ending so it doesn't really matter.

but...

IF THE SHIT HITS THE FAN AND COMES SPLATTERING ON YER FACE.

I've got one advice for you. YES YOU DUDE.

7. Don't panic.  So yer losing yer house. So yer getting a divorce. So yer husband's cheating on you.  So yer bank closed.  So the world is about to end. Fuck that shit.  Life is short.  Everything is an illusion and shit. 

relax.

take a deep breath.

play some chillout music.

grab a smoke.

drink your non-chinese milk.

and call yer mom to tell her that you'd be crashing in for a bit. 




there.....

feel better?


good.



hope that helps.

Thursday, February 7

The Confessions of an Insom{a}niac XIX - reflections on the middle kingdom

chinese new year

The Chinese Lunar New Year has always fascinated me. I guess its because of the fact that it is a non Western tradition that is truly Asian. Moreover, I guess its also at the fact that I am not Chinese myself. Although I am Asian {which is a highly debatable term to describe myself, because some people of esteemed opinions apparently don't think a person of my origins is not Asian and some would prefer me to be called a Pacific Islander or Malay or whatever geo-politically correct term for what a Filipino is}, I do not celebrate the Chinese Lunar New Year. I grew up with Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, All Souls Day and all those Western and Christian Festivals that in reality were not my own to begin with. I guess that's why I have this affinity with the Chinese Lunar New Year or the Spring Festival, as the Chinese would call it, that even though it is not my own festival, it is in fact the closest thing that I could get to being Asian. Truth be told, Chinese New Years used to be as foreign to me as China itself. The only Chinese I knew was sweet and sour pork at the local take out in Manila. But that all changed when I came to China six years ago.


a kind of culture awe

I could still remember the minute I got off a China Southern Airline flight bound to Changchun. After leaving the Urbania that was Hong Kong, a bustling urban metropolis that challenged even New York and London in its cosmopolitanism, I had high hopes for the city that I was going to be working in. I was sure that it was not going to be as grand and as sophisticated as Hong Kong or even Manila, but I had high hopes still. I told myself that as long as there was a 40 story building then I would be fine. So I got out of the plane tired and a bit groggy from the flight. Then I saw Changchun with my own two eyes. Well, I saw the airport which was actually actually a runway with two old buildings and yes a control tower. It used to be an airstrip for the Chinese Air Force. Very spartan. A company representative, a Chinese woman who looked like a middle school student welcomed me to China and she then told me that we were going to eat dumplings {which I did not know what on earth they were back then} then shanghaied me to the van that was waiting for us. On the way to the dumpling restaurant I looked out the car window and started to feel a bit queasy about my decision in moving to China. The buildings were all similar - brick type, with sort of big numbers on the front that looked like factory buildings during the Industrial revolution {I later learned that the area where the former airport was situated was actually near the car factory}. I saw a donkey pulling a cart filled with hay and a Chinese family. I saw tuk tuks that looked like cars but they were tuk tuks. I saw bicycles, quite a number of them {I later learned that bicycle use had actually decreased in recent years prior to my arrival}. I got scared. All the things that my sister from California were telling me about China on the phone the week before I was about to leave were all coming back to me like a flash flood. Human Rights, Tibet, Tienanmen, Communism. Was this culture shock? That was the question that I asked myself back then while I was in that van going to the dumpling restaurant. Years later, I realized that it wasn't culture shock but a kind of culture awe. It was something different, the China that I inhabited. It was not Hong Kong, or Manila or Tokyo or New York or London or San Francisco. It simply was Changchun, a cold and and Kafkaesque city in the North East that is ironically called The City of Eternal Spring.

{Things have changed though. My city has a new airport. There are taller buildings. Residential complexes are popping up like mushrooms. Things are getting expensive. More and more Chinese people are earning more money. Crime has risen. English has become a designer language for middle class parents who want their children to learn and speak it like a"native" speaker. Changchun is very different from the Changchun that I saw for the first time when I stepped out of that plane 6 years ago.}

the fall of the sweet & sour pork & the rise of the mighty dumpling


The traditional Chinese food during the Spring Festival are dumplings. They are so because their roundness signify family reunion. In northern China on New Years Eve, families usually spend the whole day together making dumplings for the New Year Dinner Table. They make it literally from scratch, the flour for the dough, the meat, the vegetables are all prepared by hand. The dumpling I dare say, is the quintessential symbol of China for many reasons that are both shallow and deep. Suffice to say, my first dumpling experience was not as what I expected it to be. That day after the airport, they took me to the dumpling restaurant, the best one in town. I didn't like it. It was Chinese food yes, but it sure wasn't sweet and sour pork. I realized that Chinese food didn't appeal to me. It tasted, well, ordinary. A few months later when I sort of settled in, I kept asking my Chinese friends if they had sweet and sour pork with pineapple chunks and bell peppers. Of course they had none. I resorted to eating instant noodles for almost a month {they were cheap and they reminded me of home} until I got tired and resorted to eating the local food. I eventually got used to the saltiness and the oiliness of Chinese food. When that happened, my waist grew from size 30 to size 34. I wasn't happy about that part. It took me two years to actually appreciate the mighty dumpling and Chinese food. After that, I never ate sweet and sour pork whenever I go back to Manila. I guess it wasn't "Chinese" enough for me.

the laowai & the white man's hernia


Expatriates or any foreigner traveling around China are fondly called by the locals as laowai which literally translates to "foreign devil". I often ask my Chinese friends and even some expats who have been around since the Peking Man about the etymology of the word. Most of them told me that it actually originated from the Chinese's antipathy towards the Japanese during the Second World War which was then transfered to the Imperialist Americans during the Cold War which finally boiled down to any foreigner of any nationality that is not Chinese. Laowai, the foreign devil. If you ask me, I think all foreigners deserve to be called as such. Before you throw anything vile or rotten at my personal space, let me explain why. I am a laowai myself, and to be honest, I'm proud to be called as such. Other expats get annoyed and even furuious at the fact that they are called laowai. Most of them say its like being called a nigger, a kyke, a dago, a pollack etc. One expat, in his drunken stupor, even had the audacity to say that its a derogatory term for the white man. I'm just glad {and I'm sure that his companions were too} that one of the English speaking waiters spat on his drink before he served it to him. My two cents on this is that the ones who are annoyed at being called such are just annoyed at the fact that there is a term for them. Yeah you can call them chinks and dog eaters and such but never ever call us white folk laowai. This may sound a bit anti white bread, but its not really. I have white friends, really good friends. But my years spent living in a foreign country, around Chinese and foreigners led me to a realization that the white man has in fact this sense of ascendancy that is implicit in their language both spoken and unspoken. Most do not know it, the ones who do, live in it and celebrate it. It's nothing saying bad against the white folk. It's something that is factual, like non white folks {like many Chinese for example} have an implicit sense of humility when come in contact with the white folk for the first time. I did too. But then I woke up and realized that they actually are no different. Yeah, many would say that they rule the world, but I beg to differ. It's just like saying sweet and sour pork is Chinese food. White man's once superior balls has become an hernia with problems that auto gestates for generations of white man's {and by default, the rest of the world's} children to suffer. It took me a while to realize that they are no different, my white friends. They're just, well white, for the lack of a better word.

Going back to laowai, I think the word has a lot more meaning under the skin apparent. I think it signifies the love and hate relationship of China with world. The Noodle Kingdom, as I fondly call China is both a very complicated and simple society. Love and affection, spirituality and belief, Yes and No have different meanings and concepts and weltanschungs in The Noodle Kingdom. It is just not that simple yet it is also as simple as that. I know that I may seem confusing, but I guess you have to be able to spend time and be open to China's horizon's to say something as senseless as this. It may sound arrogant for many people, but I can say for a fact that I have had my share of China. It may not be the whole truth but then again, it is true. I maybe asserting myself a bit too much here, but then again I'm not white and I need the affirmation, so sue me.

The word laowai meant different things for me throughout the years. I have been called laowai so many times that I lost count. The one thing that I always found interesting was that after they call me laowai, they always mistook my nationality. I have been mistaken for a Japanese, Korean, Indian, Malaysian, Singaporean, Hong Konger {by heavens it is an indelible part of China!}, Xinjiangren {which is another by heavens!} French, American, Canadian, African {which is not even a country} but never a Filipino. Never a Filipino. I don't know if I would be hurt or worried or annoyed or what but it was saying something to me. Somehow, they were telling me that I am not what I am or what I was supposed to be. I am Filipino and I am Asian, but somehow, I am not Filipino and I am not Asian. I am them but I am also neither of them. I wouldn't call myself Western either. If I am neither all these things yet I feel that I am at the same time, then what am I exactly?

I found an appropriate term for this condition - removed. I have words to describe my the aggregate of my skin color, blood type, language that I was born to speak, gestures, dietary habits etc, but I am removed from that word. I guess that's the reason why I find a special affinity with the word laowai. It's a term that is removed from its original meaning. It's something on its own. It's both archaic and novel at the same time. I am a laowai and as long as I am in China, I will be one.


the lifer (?)

A lifer is a word that many expats call people who have been in the Noodle Kingdom for a number of years. A lifer for some, is a title of honor, but for others a bane. Some expats would call me a lifer, a pseudo local who knows the best prices and the best bargains and the best places, but I beg to differ. In all honesty, the average backpacker probably bargains better than I do and probably knows better places. There were/are others who had/have been here longer than I am, I would call some of them lifers, who have eagerly adapted and assimilated to the language and culture, who have made a family and a life for themselves in The Noodle Kingdom and have definitely become a local with the quote-unquote. China has become their home.

Still there are others, who have been here for a good number of years and but have never really been successful in the osmosis. I am hypothesizing here. Perhaps, they were not just that willing. Or perhaps they were already way too late for osmosis. Or perhaps they can never be weaned. Or perhaps it's just natural selection. I don't know. But what I do know is this. I belong to the latter. I do not consider myself as a lifer {for now, that is}. I can speak the language at a great extent, but I can never communicate deep thoughts, I can barely read, I don't have the patience to study Chinese writing, and I don't see myself here in ten years. Perhaps I am a glorified tourist, but I do not wish to think so. "Passing through" is just too harsh a word for me and it doesn't give justice to whatever it is I am doing here. I'd like to think that I am in transit, a person in pilgrimage. I will leave the Noodle Kingdom someday and I will carry with me, fond memories.

my love affair with the noodle kingdom

I am in love with China. I love it enough even to defend it from people who fault the country and the society for the sake of a 15 minute pub spotlight or just to ejaculate their gray matter in some random "foreign" party chit chat hoola. It is unfair especially if you realize that the person spouting those words has only been in China for barely 6 months and yet that person knows China like they have read the last 10 year profile on China like they have a yearly subscription on The Economist. It is unfair and I don't take it lightly. Yes I do believe in the Socratic method and the midwifery shit, but in some cases it doesn't work. If it doesn't work, I feed them a good dose of Chinese dumplings. China, like any other nation, it is constantly trying to define itself. It may boast of a 5,000 year history but it is still learning from its mistakes like many other younger nations and societies that are learning from theirs. I always get the impression that many people outside China and outside the field of economics and politics underestimate China's influence and reach and many Chinese citizens overestimate themselves as a society and as a people. The funny thing is, China is just like any other society - it has an economy and a government, it has a language, it constantly defines itself and it is unique. There's really nothing new here except the fact that it's China's 15 minutes. 15 minutes is 15 minutes. China, at the moment, is Paris Hilton and let China have it. In many ways, they deserve the 15 minutes. The West has been way overexposed and to be honest its bordering on stale to an overrated soap opera that has been running for 20 years. Being in love with a society doesn't mean that I don't find anything wrong with it. I find a good number of things wrong with it like I find a good number of things wrong with [ insert any, I mean ANY country here]. The point is, when you love something, you hope for its best and you do what you can do to help.

I guess, China kind of grew on me. Like what this German teacher once told me, "It grows on you, like a fungus." True enough, it does.

Thursday, November 23

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE UNIVERSE

dear mr./ms./mrs. universe...

i never thought you had compassion for me. aLL my Life i've aLways thought that i was just this brown joe shmoe {who works as a part time hoe. ehehehe, ok, i know that was corny so sue me}. but then again, Life is waaaaay too mysterious for my brain ceLLs to understand.

behind aLL the buLLshit and the rough exterior, is a scrawny LittLe boy who Likes cartoons and tocino and good pre-pubescent sex!

truth be toLd, i am scared shitLess. but that don't mean i won't jump. i'm just scared of heights. but then again, i have a harness.

this might just be possibLe... and i couLd hear some cheesy Love song pLaying in my head right now. and you wanna know something? i think i don't want it to stop.

so there. once again universe, make me stupid. make me faLL fLat on me face with a gigantic mound of cowturd greeting me 'heLLo!' i submit. you van defiLe me aLL you want for your entertainment pLeasure... but don't Let the fuckin music stop. because you owe me that one at Least.

and by the way, thanks. i never thought that you had a heart...

Thursday, November 9

today

is/was my birthday {at Least in this part of the worLd it is}. truth be toLd, i hate birthdays. it's just another reminder for me that mortaLity is right around the corner and i better make haste in working in the fieLds so that i might be abLe {hopefuLLy} to reap what i have sown. aside from the mortaLity bit, i have come to not Like birthday parties because of some unsavory events in my past birthday parties. i have been receiving greetings from friends and famiLy, which i somehow appreciate {in a weird kinda way} even though i don't Like to remember my birthday. my vox neighbors nina and sunny keep saying it's just a number. it proLLy is, but i have yet to find the wisdom the wisdom of those words. i proLLy wiLL someday, when i'm saggy and geriatric and drinking my margaritas on a beach in antartica.

Last night, i have decided to make this day toLerabLe if not speciaL. i didn't want to ceLebrate, i mean, what for? jaded as i am, i reaLized that i am not THAT jaded. i stiLL am a cLoseted romantic {not the hoLLywood kind though}. i decided to make it a bit speciaL just a bit.

i reaLized that for the past 28 years {yes i'm 28 but i feeL Like i'm pushing 60 and beyond}, i have been ceLebrating my birthdays the same oLd way, and it's kinda getting oLd {pun intended}. you know, food, booze, iLLegaL substances, porn, human sacrifice, orgies, the proverbiaL birthday cake with them candLes Lit and i have to bLow the damn thing without spitting on it, yadda yadda. i decided to make my birthday this year different. no parties. no booze. no food. and no friggen cake with them candLes!

i decided to fast on my birthday. yes, a birthday fast. i started Last night at the stroke of midnight right after my sister caLLed me from caLifornia crying her eyes out {she's currentLy in the middLe of a messy divorce and by yoda i don't Like her sniveLLing-two-timing-greedy-soon-to-be-ex-husband-sLash-crackhead who i hope chokes on his toast right now}.

a birthday fast. i wiLL not eat anything soLid, anything chewabLe for the whoLe day. so far i've onLy "drank" oatmeaL and i wasn't abLe to finish it. and oh yes, Lemonade and water too. so far i'm doing ok, Like i haven't fainted or anything. in fact i was abLe to cLean me fLat and do the Laundry and wash dishes whiLe Listening to baden-poweLL {bossa nova is da bomb! i am so going to braziL when i'm friggen Loaded. maybe i'LL die there whiLe dancing samba in the middLe of sao paoLo wearing nothing but a band aid on me private parts. *Omar crosses his fingers}.

anywaaay, ennuf of braziL. why fasting, you ask. coz i've been eating for 28 god damn years! and i'm tired of it. no i don't have an eating disorder. i just wanted to, weLL for the Lack of a better word, make this day god damn toLerabLe.

and one more thing. you know i am not a reLigious person. i am cathoLic, oh yes {and i'LL aLways be, i reckon} but i am no saint. i respect reLigion in any form. i actuaLLy find it interesting and in many ways, profound. but reLigion is not my cup of jizz, i reckon. i do beLieve in jesus christ, and buddah and aLLah and the madonna {the mother not the singer, but yeah the singer kicks major ass too}, joseph, moses, david and jonathan, krishna and aLL them good peopLe who waLked this earth and spread goodness Like it was some fLyer for starbucks. and i beLieve in god. but these things {if ya can caLL'em things}, they're not reLigion. bah, i don't wanna have a Lecture on theoLogy and spirituaLity so i better stop. STOP!

ok there. yeah, i am not reLigious but i think that there is something "higher" than me, than this, this, this... reaLity i am condemned or thrown or existing or {insert any word here} in. be it god, the universe, the cosmos, karma, whathaveyou, i beLieve that there is a higher power or rather a higher consciousness that connects peopLe, things, the weather, Life in generaL.... the cosmos... Like we are aLL interconnected or woven from a singLe thread. it's Like myspace {ugh} where everybody is connected to tom {seriousLy, who wouLd have THAT many friends? even the friggen pope doesn't have that number of devout foLLowers}. anyways, yeah jeez i keep getting sidetracked i shouLd buy myseLf a one track mind for the Life of me {they don't have it at waLmart yet}. ok stop. STOP!

there

fasting. interconnectedness. cosmos. myspace. i wanted to fast because i wanted to make a wish. weLL, wishes actuaLLy. actuaLLy they're not my wishes per se. they're Like hopes and dreams. or my hopes and dreams for the peopLe i know and care about. {yes, i do have mushy moments}. it's Like this prayer, onLy more personaL, more sacred {for me it is} and more profound {ditto}.

for the past 20 something hours whiLe i have been trying to empty my body, i have aLso been trying to empty my mind. reLeasing thoughts of any kind to the cosmos hoping that it wouLd be heard or grasped or understood or even feLt by someone or some thing eLse. i was praying... i have been praying... i stiLL am as i type this bLog entry.

what am i praying for?

many things, i guess...

for my sister in caLifornia who is in the middLe of this messy divorce. for my parents to grow oLd and happy {reaL happy}, for my sibLings and their daughters and sons to have Live a good Life. for my 2 bestfriends to have the happiness and success they deserve. for a friend who feeLs he's Lost right now. for a friend who hopes to have her SRS within 10 years. for a friend who's in a midLife crisis. for a friend who has just found his freedom. for a friend who's recovering. for a friend who has diabetes. for a friend who has a heart condition. for a friend who has a Lump in his brain. for a friend who's going to coLLege. for a friend out of work. fora friend who's burned out. for two friends who had a faLLing out. for a friend who has faLLen out of Love. for a frien in Love. for a friend who's finding Love. for a friend who has found Love. for my friends in London, france, serbia, jamaica, austria, scotLand, newcastLe, austraLia, indonesia, maLaysia, singapore, the states, spain, china, phiLippines, guam, japan, canada and a whoLe Lotta other pLaces. for worLd peace {i stiLL beLieve in it}. for africa. for aids. for iLiteracy. for chiLd Labor. for the environment. for the middLe east. for mindanao. for my coconut repubLic. for hunger and sickness. for truth. beauty. freedom. Love. for justice. for civiL Liberties. for brotherhood and sisterhood. for dreams. for today. for tomorrow.

i'm no saint, so don't get me wrong. but even sinners and Losers pray. or hope for something better.